Just a Dream
by Loreyulia
Summary: I know I'll never forget you, Holy Rome... but, you're gone, and nothing is ever going to change that. Maybe HE can, but in the end am I strong enough to let you go, for a love that may never be?


Disclaimer: I wonder, if I obsess over this fandom enough, will it some day be mine? O.o Doubt it... *cries*

This one is rated T, since the boy love didn't get too graphic, and I kept my cursing to a minimum. The pairing is past HRExChibitalia and present GerxIta. Just clearing that up now, so there will be no confusion. Please enjoy my simple one shot :)

Just a Dream

The sun beat down, shining its golden rays of enchanting light upon a small man, who lay shirtless in the sand. The man turned in his sleep, now lying on his side; thousands of grains of white sand, clinging to his skin. Cupid's bow lips parted slightly, as he breathed in the ocean air, his small chest rising and falling in the form of slumber.

Eyes moved restlessly behind closed lids, as the man dreamed, peacefully ignorant of the world around him. It was a good dream, one Italy didn't get to experience often. Images of a happier time flitted about his dreamscape. He was dreaming of the only one he promised to ever love... he was dreaming of Holy Rome. Those eyes that mirrored the sky on a sunny day, gazed at Italy in his dreams. They were filled with such adoration, and longing, that it practically broke his fragile heart.

Because... those eyes could only ever appear within his twisted dreams. The image of bright blue, and sunshine yellow, would only be conjured as Italy slept... for Holy Rome was dead, and he was never coming back. But Italy knew some where deep in his subconscious, that when he awoke, sky blue eyes and sunshine yellow hair would greet him. Even if such features did not belong to Holy Rome now, they still belonged to some one very special to him. They belonged to a man that, Italy was ashamed to admit, he was slowly falling in love with.

Betrayal, and hurt dominated those blue eyes that once adored him, turning them icy, and cold. Italy whimpered in his sleep, and curled in on himself. He couldn't face Holy Rome, he was too cowardly to look into those eyes that silently condemned him for his weakness. Those eyes that seemed to question, "Why didn't you wait for me? I thought we made a promise..." Italy opened his mouth to speak, to scream to the heavens that he was sorry, but the words died like ash upon his tongue.

Violent screams, and cries of anguish ripped through his dreams, making his head throb in horror as he witnessed the scene now laid out before him. Italy closed his eyes so tight that it hurt, and covered his ears trying in vain to block out the tortured screams. Holy Rome, he was the one screaming, the one who was asking so many painful questions. Why didn't you wait for me? Didn't you love me? Weren't we supposed to be together forever?

Italy shook his head wildly, trying to drown out the screaming, trying to shake away the image of Holy Rome's body massacred on a battlefield; an image his subconscious created to make him choke, and taste bile on his tongue. Just when he felt like he was going to break, Italy awoke with a start, flying up and realizing it was all just a horrible dream.

A tanned arm came to rest over his eyes, as he flopped back down into the sand, waiting for his heart beat to slow down. _Breathe in, breathe out. _Italy repeated this mantra inside his head, to help calm his nerves. It wasn't very often he had scary dreams, they were usually filled with pasta, and pretty girls.

Whenever he dreamed of Holy Rome, especially when the dream turned sour, it always left Italy feeling empty; and so sad, that he just wanted to lock himself away from the world, and cry until his heart gave out. The memories were just too sad, and Italy hated dredging them up, preferring to bury it all deep down, and hide everything behind a bright smile, and sparkling eyes.

He knew this time it would be harder to shake the depression away, because even though he was trying his best, he couldn't get rid of the frown that marred his pretty face.

~O.o.o.O~

Thin lips part, emitting a frustrated sigh. Bright blue eyes darkened, and earnest brows settle into a worried arc. Germany stared in utter confusion at the sight laid out before him. Of all the people he could imagine moping around the house, looking defeated, and just plain _depressed, _Italy was not the first name that came to mind. But there he was laying on the couch, just staring blankly into space, pasta left forgotten on a t.v. tray beside his head. Italy had been like this for a week, _a whole damn week! _

Germany sighed again, and let his eyes roam over the Italian's perfectly sculpted body. He was getting thinner, his skin becoming a paler shad of delectable bronze, and he had bruise colored circles under his eyes. It was very disconcerting, and Germany began badgering his companion relentlessly about his odd behavior. All he received in return was a feeble, "Ve~ I'm fine Germany... stop worrying."

Italy was most certainly _not_ fine, and Germany wasn't fooled for a second. Normally he would be flitting around the house (most likely naked) singing cheerfully, or painting pretty pictures; and he would definitely, not under any circumstances, leave a bowl of his beloved pasta untouched, and forgotten on a t.v. tray!

Anxiety was building up steadily within the ever-worrying German, and soon he was going to explode! He had given up on extracting any information out of Italy. For once, this was a battle that the pathetic excuse for a Country was winning...

~O.o.o.O~ 

Night had fallen, and Italy had not stirred once from his position on the couch. Germany couldn't handle the depressing atmosphere any longer, so he left the house, and went to the grocery store to pick up stuff for dinner. Not really in the mood to cook (curse Italy, his apathy was beginning to rub off on him) Germany grabbed a couple t.v. dinners, a bag of salad mix, and a special treat for Italy: Pistachio Gelato.

Paying for the groceries, Germany sighed as he walked out to his Volkswagen, knowing full well that Italy would still be in the same depressed funk when he got home. Opening the car door, he placed the groceries in the passengers seat, put his keys in the ignition, and situated himself in the drivers seat. He fastened his seat belt, put the car in reverse, and backed out smoothly; and was on his way home.

It only took about ten minutes, before he was pulling into his driveway. He grabbed the bags, and locked and closed the car door before making his way to the front door of his humble home. Fumbling with the keys for a bit, Germany finally let himself in, going straight to the kitchen to put the groceries away.

When he was finished, he went to the living room to check on Italy. Germany's lips almost tilted upward into a smile, because of the sight that greeted him. Italy was asleep on the couch, lips parted ever-so slightly, chest rising and falling to the rhythm of peaceful sleep. Germany took this moment to let his eyes drink in the beautiful sight, because he'd be lying to himself, if he said the Italian was anything but beautiful.

His hair was the most enchanting mixture of brown and red, his eyes the softest, richest brown. He had golden skin, that could make even a Greek God jealous. Even the small things about Italy were enthralling to the blue eyed German. Even though he didn't understand it, Germany loved the little strand of hair that didn't stay with the rest of Italy's unruly locks; curling wildly away from his head instead. He loved the ever present smile on the Italian's deceptively young features. But most of all, Germany loved Italy's inability to do anything cruel, or inhumane. The Italian had never hurt another living soul, and Germany seriously doubted he ever would.

A smile hovered hesitantly upon Germany's usually stern lips, and a very small blush gave life to his moon pale cheeks. He had given up on fighting his feelings for the little Italian some where back in WWII. Germany knew, without even having to question himself over it, that he was deeply in love with the one and only Feliciano Vargas. Germany's lips fell back into a frown, when he noticed the still untouched bowl of pasta. Sighing, he leaned over the sleeping brunette, and picked up the bowl.

Going into the kitchen, the cleanly blond dumped the un-eaten noodles down the kitchen drain, and flipped on the garbage disposal. Then he washed the bowl out, and set it in the drain board to dry. "I swear, that man is going to be the death of me some day..." Germany's low, and thickly accented voice broke the silence, as he mused over how much he worried over Italy. Shuffling back into the living room, he sat down on the couch beside his sleeping companion, and smiled.

_He's so pretty... _Germany couldn't help but think to himself. Fingers trembling slightly, the blond tried to resist the temptation to touch Italy's pretty face, but resistance was futile. Strong fingers caressed softly, as if he was afraid they would break Italy's perfect skin. The man whimpered in his sleep, unconciously turning into the phantom touch. Germany gasped, wrenching his hand away, afraid he had awoken the small Italian. But he slept on, encouraging Germany to resume his gentle stroking.

"Ich leibe dich," Germany whispered, before dipping down to kiss Italy's lips softly. Pulling away, he almost sprung off of the couch, when Italy's eyes fluttered open.

"Holy Rome..?" Italy murmured, smiling softly up into the blue eyes above him, causing said man to freeze.

Germany fought back the unexpected hurt that welled up inside him, and replied, "No Italy, it's me- Germany."

Realization dawned on the Italian, and he flew upright exclaiming, "Please, forgive me Germany! I was just, dreaming... I'm sorry." He curled tightly in on himself, burying his face in the heels of his hands, as he continued. "It's just, you look a lot like some one, some one I knew very long ago." That melancholy, far-away gaze took over Italy's golden-brown eyes again.

"Ah..." Germany fumbled for words, "I see."

"His name was Holy Roman Empire," Italy suddenly said, "we grew up together, when I lived with Austria. He was... he was such a nice boy." The Italians pretty eyes moved to Germany's face hesitantly, as he continued. "You look just like him you know, if he were all grown up."

A frown pulled at Germany's lips, and he couldn't stop himself from asking, "What... what happened to him?"

Biting his lower lip harshly, Italy closed his eyes as he answered, "He went off to war you see... and he, he never came back. I... I loved him very much. He was my first, and only love." Shiny tears slowly traveled down Italy's soft cheeks, the silence surrounding the two men awkwardly. A sad expression fell over the German's face, his fingers wiping away his crying friends wet tears.

"I'm sorry Italien, I shouldn't have pried..." The shy blond offered awkwardly, still wiping away the Italians tears.

"N-no," Italy managed to say around his choking sobs, "I should be the one apologizing! I've been so sad lately, I probably bothered you Germany..." The blond let out a soft sigh, his strong hands cupping Italy's tear-stained face gently.

"W-what... what bothers me, is not your crying." Germany's eyebrows came together in a worried line. "It's, the feeling of helplessness I feel when I see you cry... when I have no idea what to do, to make you smile."

A very tiny smile lifted the corners of Italy's sweet lips, and he brought his fingers up to his face, to grasp one of Germany's strong hands. "Just be yourself Germany," he confessed, his eyes closing sweetly. "That's enough to make me smile."

"I-Italy..." Germany murmured the name softly, one large hand gliding across soft skin, to rest behind the Italians petite neck.

"Yes, Germany?" Italy tilted his head, eyes searching the blond's own blue orbs curiously.

"That boy, Holy Rome?" The German questioned, face ablaze in shyness, "do you... do you still love him?"

Italy looked away, tears beginning to prick at his big brown eyes again in shame. "Y-yes," he offered, trembling slightly at his own words. "I still love him, very much."

The blond's expectant face fell a bit as he simply replied, "Oh..." Germany removed his comforting hands from the smaller man, shifting awkwardly from his rather forward actions. A look of pure desperation flashed through Italy's eyes, and it shocked the German to the core, as a pair of soft lips pressed against his hungrily.

Small, shaking hands pushed their way through short blond hair, and Italy shifted up onto his knees, kissing Germany harder. Two strong arms hesitantly wrapped around Italy's thin waist, bringing him closer to the German's broad chest, and torso. One hand traveled lazily down to the base of Italy's spine, while the other traveled up into soft auburn hair. A soft moan escaped Italy's occupied lips, snapping the German man back into reality, and he pulled away from those hungry lips.

A wry smile split Germany's lips apart, his cheeks impossibly flushed as he murmured, "I'm sorry Italy, I should not have taken advantage of you like that. You're fragile right now, and not thinking rationally. Please, forgive me..."

"But Germany," Italy whispered, hands burying themselves into the blond's cream colored dress shirt. "I wanted to kiss you. It's true, I still love Holy Rome, I think I always will, but... I've fallen in love with you Germany. I want to be with you, if you'll have me?"

Germany's mouth hung open in surprise, and he scrambled frantically to find the right words to say in return. "You really love me? But... but why?" He asked, eyes swimming with millions of questions, he was too afraid to voice.

"Because silly," Italy trilled, "you're always there to save me when I'm in trouble. You make me laugh with how serious, and adorable you can be. When you smile, it brightens up my whole day! And you are beautiful, so beautiful in fact, some times I'm afraid that you're not real, just a figment of my imagination."

Pink tinged Germany's face, turning warm with embarrassment because of Italy's honest words. "If any one is beautiful," He murmured, tracing the lines of Italy's face, "it's you. You remind of the sun, because you are the brightest, prettiest thing I have ever seen... I love you Italien, I have for a very long time."

A bright, happy smile blossomed across Italy's face at last, as he threw his arms around Germany's waist, and nuzzled his nose into the crook of his neck. "I'm so glad to hear that Germany loves me! Does this mean that we're boyfriends now?"

Smiling slightly, Germany patted his love on the head and replied, "Ja, we're 'boyfriends' now. So...you should call me by my real name from now on, okay Leibling?"

Hugging the German man tighter, Italy whispered against his skin, "Anything for you, Ludwig."

Warmth spread through Germany's chest, and he pulled Italy into his lap, burying his face in the man's Auburn hair. "Feliciano, are you hungry?" He asked. When is Italian didn't answer, Germany pulled away, and smiled. "He fell asleep," the German whispered incredulously, but scooped Italy up none-the-less. He carried him to his, well 'their' bedroom, and laid him down gently on the white cotton sheets.

Pulling up the deep blue comforter, Germany carefully tucked Italy in for the night, and began getting dressed for bed himself. After he brushed his teeth, and combed down his hair, Germany crawled into bed; and he kissed his new boyfriend gently. Pulling the comforter up, and around the both of them, the blond settled in, and turned off the bedside lamp.

Italy instantly snuggled into Germany's warmth, wrapping his wiry arms around as much of the blond as possible, and slept on. Germany couldn't help but smile, as he whispered softly, "Guten nocht Leibe."

~O.o.o.O~

The shining through lacy white curtains woke Italy from his peaceful slumber. His eyes fluttered open slowly, and he turned to his side, smiling. "Mornin'!" The words died upon his lips, when he found the space beside him empty. Italy began to internally panic, maybe... maybe it had all been a dream, and Germany was mad at him for sleeping in his bed again. The panic was quelled though, when he heard Germany singing softly to himself in his native tongue, the splashing water of the shower head almost drowning it out.

Italy smiled like a love-drunk fool, and fell back against the sheets, laughing brightly. _Holy Rome... _he thought idly. _I know now, it's okay to let you go. I'm happy now, so that probably makes you happy too. _A small tear ran down Italy's cheek, but he didn't move to wipe it away. He was happy, happier then he had been in so very long.

_I know I'll never forget you Holy Rome, but... you're gone, and nothing is going to change that. _Italy's gaze traveled to the nearest window, and he stared out at the endlessly blue sky. _I can't have you back so... so now I can let you be, just a dream. _

~Fin~

Translations:

Ja- (German) Yes

Ich Leibe Dich- (German) I love you

Lebling- (German) Darling

Guten nocht leibe- (German) Good night love

If I missed any, or spelled some thing wrong/didn't get the right translation, kindly let me know in pm please, I'd greatly appreciate it.

E/N: This doesn't have much to do with the story itself, but I figured out how to type/post shit using my smart phone *hurray for me finally figuring out technology* So definitely expect to see a lot of my work getting posted frequently, since I have a bunch of one shots completed, that have needed posting for _years!_ I really hope you enjoyed this story, even if it was a little pointless, I just wanted to write angsty stuff, with a cute, fluffy Germany. He's just so adorable, when he shows his soft side *squeals like a crazy fangirl* Please review how you see fit, and have an awesome day!


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